With the by-election over and the countless corflutes that once blanketed the quiet streets and roadsides of Secret Harbour like the banners of warring tribes have come down, attention turned from rhetoric to reality.

Unlike war, where all sides often emerge diminished, the winner of any political contest is clear. There are no second prizes. For all others, the spoils consist only of varying degrees of loss.

As a Liberal, the result brought with it mixed emotions. On the one hand, triumph, that the spell of the Labor Party’s decades-long dominance over the seat, where I built my first home and started my family, was finally broken, and on the other sadness that it wasn’t my team that was able to achieve it.

In Secret Harbour, the greatest loser was in no doubt, and equally so, it was crystal clear who won the day. One Nation took on the giant machine of the Labor Party and crushed them. Even with a war chest in the order of half a million dollars and with relentless blistering media attacks, they were not able to defend against what was historically one of the greatest collapses of a Labor majority in a heartland seat.

The government’s panic on the ground was unmistakable, and the response since reprehensible. Nowhere more than from the Prime Minister, whose interest only appeared after the fact. Does he forget that the insults, slander, and claims that those who support One Nation are dangerous fall squarely on ordinary Australians, many of whom were once loyal Labor voters?

Does the Prime Minister, or his Attorney-General know (or even care) that such statements further divide Australians and inflame the same unhinged horde who already hate our country in a thousand different ways?

Does he really believe he can win them back by talking down to them?

The tin ear is astonishing. Something has clearly changed in Australia, and despite the polls and recent election results, I think many in power remain oblivious. So, if you’ll bear with me, let me tell you what I’ve observed, not only in Secret Harbour, but across the country.

My own thinking changed years ago as a mature-age university philosophy student. It was the first time that I had truly encountered the concept of critical thinking. It wasn’t something entirely necessary in my trade as a fitter and machinist, and it was the first time I realised just how much information reaches us in a filtered state. And it was also the first time I learned that with the right tools, an argument can be pulled apart and tested to see whether it actually holds.

It was an eye-opener for me, changing forever the way I was to view the news media.

For a long time, we appeared to live under a system of managed consent. Most people didn’t need to dive too deeply into the issues. We had experts for that. The system looked like it was working. We trusted that the checks and balances were doing their job, that the media was a reasonably objective watchdog, and that we could get on with our lives while the institutions kept themselves honest.

Most of us had no idea how much of what we perceived was being shaped for us beneath the surface.

Then came the pandemic, and the mechanics of the system were suddenly on full display. Governments and organisations used every channel available to control the narrative, and millions of people watched them do it. ‘Accept the evidence, accept the science, accept, accept, accept.’ They tried enforcing this with manufactured consent, mass censorship, and shamefully at times, hard power in the form of tear gas, rubber bullets, and arrests.

For a while it seemed that perhaps it was all going to work. But as Abraham Lincoln wisely observed: ‘You can fool all the people some of the time, and some of the people all the time, but you cannot fool all the people all the time.’

Bit by bit, people started asking questions.

Perhaps it was because measures taken at that time were so outrageous, or perhaps people got tired of being told what to think, but bit by bit, thanks to the courageous among us, the veil began to tear. The social licence of managed consent was lost and a population learned to assess the facts for themselves and take a peek behind the screen. Like the young fitter and machinist-come-philosophy student discovering critical thinking tools for the first time, many ordinary Australians learned to no longer take on faith the things they were being told by the media, by the government, or by anyone claiming authority.

The age of curated personalities and manufactured messaging appeared to be drawing to a close. Australians were no longer content with slogans and spin. They wanted integrity and leaders whose authenticity earned, rather than demanded, their trust.

The hours I spent on polling booths felt genuinely different this time. The voters I encountered were engaged, informed, and confident in their convictions. Regardless of which party they supported, most could clearly articulate why they were casting their vote the way they were. They were not simply following habit or party loyalty; they had reached their own conclusions.

This is the beginning of a critical-thinking revolution, and I do not believe it will fade any time soon. It may be untidy, fragmented and at times difficult to navigate. It may signal the emergence of a lower-trust society, one that is more sceptical of institutions and therefore harder to govern. But this is not a passing phase.

What this moment demands is wisdom rather than hubris, humility rather than contempt. No amount of denigration from Canberra, nor any measure of scorn from an increasingly insulated political class, will reverse it.

The people of Secret Harbour did more than just elect a representative. They served notice that the old rules no longer apply.

The battle for our national identity, who represents us, and where we see ourselves in the future will only intensify. In Secret Harbour, I saw hope. Whether founded or unfounded, only time will tell, but however it plays out I will always question, always do my best to discern motive, and always remain hopeful that this great state and nation of ours remains a fountain of prosperity and happiness for its citizens.

Phil Twiss is a Liberal Member of the Western Australian Legislative Council. He served in the Royal Australian Navy before working in engineering, resources and small business, and is currently Deputy Chair of the Standing Committee on Environment and Public Affairs.

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